Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Lost Everything Chapter 01, Mb By Jack B Pink (jack.b.pink@yandex.com)
http://www.asstr.org/~JackBPink/ Codes: Mb(8), molest, cp, kidnapping
Please be aware that this story describes, in erotic detail, sexual
interactions between males and between adults and minors (both over and
under 14).  The author vehemently discourages and condemns any sort of
adult-child abuse including sexual abuse - even if all parties involved are
"consenting" at the time.  Seriously.  It's not worth destroying a child's

life to get off.  Just read these harmless stories.

   This story is meant solely for entertainment purposes, not instruction.
Please do yourself a favor and DON'T harm or abuse any real children.

   The characters and events depicted in this story are completely
fabrications and in no way relate to real people or real events.  Any
appearance of similarity to real persons or events is completely
coincidental.

   ***I thrive on feedback.  If you enjoy this or any of my other stories,
I'd love to hear from you.  If I made you cum, let me know (consider it
payment ;) ).***

   - Chapter 1 Lost and Found

   Adam Smithington had it all.  He was assistant attorney general working
under a great prosecutor who was about to be elected governor.  Which meant
Smithington had a clear shot at the boss' job.  His prosecutorial history
was superb.  He never lost a case and he chose the vilest criminals to go
after-murderers, rapists, and his favorite, pedophiles.  He couldn't count
how many he put away, but he always made a media circus of the trial.  And
he was well-loved for it.

   Adam Smithington had it all.  He had three beautiful children.  Emily,
his eldest had just got her driver's license which was perfect to help
ferry his younger two around now that Stefon, the Smithington's butler, was
getting too old to be reliable.  Ben was his youngest child at 8 who was
the spitting image of Smithington and took after him perfectly. 
Smithington would never say it out loud, but Ben was his pride and joy. 
His perfect success.  His middle child, Tyler, was, well, Tyler was the
Smithington black sheep.  The family loved him anyways, but they just
couldn't quite figure him out.

   Adam Smithington had it all.  Or rather, he'd had it all.  That was
until the day his children disappeared.  After school, Emily went shopping
with her boyfriend (Aaron Amesly, quarterback - at 16!  - and son of the
mayor) then went to pick up Ben from baseball practice, and Tyler from
(sigh) theatre rehearsal.  But they never made it home.  The road to the
Smithington estate was a bit windy and secluded, but it was usually a safe
drive.  Not that fateful evening.

   Nobody could really say what happened, but the unmistakable red-and-pink
sedan Emily loved was found at the bottom of the small ravine, upside down,
scant feet from the overflowing Azores River.  Investigators were unable to
locate any of the Smithington kids, but there were traces: some, but not a
lot, of blood, some hair, and Ben's baseball cap were all found in the
sedan.  Everyone was at a loss of what happened or where the kids were. 
But Smithington knew.  He had secretly feared the day when his career would
come back to haunt him.  He had put some terrible people away over the
years, and not all of them for life.  Some had been paroled, others had
served their sentences.  Many released had disappeared.

   That happened three months ago.

   ***

   The ensuing media frenzy was unrestrained.  As much as people love their
heroes, they love it even more when their heroes fall from grace.  Every
aspect of the search for the 'Smithington Angels' was under the scrutiny of
the press.  The press had started calling them that when they decided that
his children likely drowned and were swept along the Azores out to sea. 
Reporters camped out in front of the Smithington estate hoping to get an
exclusive interview, or a new tidbit to report on first.  Adam Smithington
was about to get them that breaking tidbit.

   He sat alone in his study.  He was a shadow of his former self.  Is
hair, now greying and brittle, lay unkempt along his wan cheeks. 
Smithington's flesh hung loosely over his bones giving him the appearance
of a man who had lost a lot of weight quickly and recently.  His eyes were
grey and hopeless.  A scraggle of a beard wound its way out of his face. 
He sat alone in his study in the ugliest, most uncomfortable chair he
owned.

   On a table to his left sat a laptop, fully open, the pale blue glow of
the screen the only source of light in the gloom.  This laptop had been his
most constant companion over the past months as he search high and low for
his Angels.  He'd used up all of his favors.  All of his contacts,
colleagues and friends failed him.  He had abandoned his job.  His old boss
won the governorship and his rival, Preston McIntery, became attorney
general.  McIntery quickly pushed the Angels' investigation aside for his
priorities.  Justice had failed Smithington, too.

   On a table at his right sat a gun, fully loaded, a bottle of rum, almost
empty, and a snifter, also almost empty.  Smithington considered these
objects.  He'd worked through the rum, so now it was time for the other. 
His right hand reached out...

   A chime disturbed the gloom.  Smithington's hand halted.  His attention
turned left and his eyes focused on a single word in a list.

   "Benny"

   "I don't know any Bennys," Smithington mumbled aloud to himself, but
clicked the name anyways, opening the email that had interrupted his
suicide.

   The message was blank.  Smithington's eyes darted around the screen,
taking it all in, a habit of his investigator days.  Burner, untraceable
email address.  No message.  No subject.  No signature.  One file.

   Wait.  One file.  "Probably a virus," he said, not really believing it.

   Smithington clicked on the file to begin the download.  Dread filled
him, his stomach aching, lurching upwards towards his chest.  He couldn't
explain it, but he knew he was about to watch proof that his children were
dead, that the revenge on Smithington was complete.

   The download finished and opened.  Smithington could not have been more
wrong and the dread evaporated into elation.

   Ben stared at his father from inside the computer screen, smiling.  He
was different than Smithington remembered, but not that different.  The
dimples were the same, as was the brightness in Ben's blue eyes.  His hair
was longer.  Ben had preferred a buzz so he didn't have to worry about it.
Now his hazelnut hair was longer and styled into a faux hawk.  The hair
pulled up from the sides into a ridge at the top of his head.

   "Hi Daddy!" Ben yelled happily.

   Daddy?  He never calls me that.  Came a thought unbidden in the back of
Smithington's mind.

   "Master said that you were worried about me," Master?  "but don't worry.
I'm happy." Ben giggled.

   This wasn't right.  This wasn't Ben.  It looked like him but it didn't
act like him.  Smithington's smile melted away as he took in the rest of
the scene.  Ben was shirtless, sitting in front of what looked like a shag
carpeted wall.  Shirtless except for the leather harness strapped to his
chest.  The four straps of the harness came up from below his arms and over
his shoulders to a point in the middle of Ben's chest.  A fifth strap
pulled from the center directly down along his belly and disappearing off
screen at his waist.  His tanned skin was paling, an indication that he
hadn't seen much sun since his disappearance.

   But he certainly wasn't underfed.  His muscle tone was just as
Smithington remember watching him play tag football with his buddies.  A
small layer of fat softened Ben's ribs.  His stomach - as much as was
visible on screen - was flat, but soft, as you would expect from a healthy
eight year old boy.  His arms were likewise soft, not skinny not
particularly fat.  Around his left bicep was a black armband with a
spiraling blue triangle emblazed on it.  A symbol for the boylove
community. Around his neck was a thick, black leather collar.  Hanging off
the ring, like a dog's tag, was an emblem of a cartoon cat Smithington
didn't recognize.

   In Smithington's horror, he didn't hear the grunting command.  But Ben
heard it.  Still smiling, Ben turned his head up as a bearded mouth lowered
on screen.  As the man's lips touched Ben's, the boy opened his lips and
slid his soft tongue out.  The man copied Ben's actions and his much larger
tongue dwarfed Ben's as the two pressed together, tasting each other.  Ben
stretched his arms up and around the anonymous man's head as two massive
beary arms wrapped around Smithington's son.  Smithington realized that the
shag carpet was in reality, his son's molester.

   He watch in horror as one of the man's hands slid down Ben's stomach off
screen and the boy began to gyrate his hips as he moaned into the beard.

   The man's other hand reached for the camera.  The scene spun before the
video ended.

   Fuck.

   Adam Smithington had had it all.  Now he had fear... and hope.

   -
   Thanks for reading.  I can be contacted at jack.b.pink@yandex.com.